


Predictability

by Fandoms_ruined_me123



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bad Parent Jack Drake, Bad Parent Janet Drake, Blood and Injury, Bruce Waynes C+ parenting, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Neglect, Concussions, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Near Death Experiences, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:09:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandoms_ruined_me123/pseuds/Fandoms_ruined_me123
Summary: Tim Drake knew his place in life, after all everything was predictable. Although there was one thing he could never predict, and that was death. He knew it would happen, but after being alone his whole life it was also comical that he would be alone then.Whumptober prompt 8: Abandonment
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950364
Comments: 5
Kudos: 172





	Predictability

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of Whumptober!! This is my first time participating in something like this so let's see how far I get!!
> 
> Also, shout out to my amazing friend Elise who beta reads everything before I post it here. I swear you guys could not tell my writing now apart from my writing before she started editing it. Apparently, I really like my incomplete sentences. Anyways just wanted to say that anything you see in this series or on my account in general she has looked over and spent so much time on

Ever since Tim was a child he knew his place in life and he knew exactly how to keep it. He knew that his parents wanted a perfect child. Someone, they could show off like a trophy only to put him away to gather dust. It might not have been ideal but even when they were gone he couldn’t shake the feeling of pride he got whenever his mom nodded at his actions, or when his dad talked about him to others with a hint of pride in his voice. A tone he never used when they were alone, so the few times he heard it his heart soared. 

He knew his place and he knew how to keep it as well. How to become the perfect son, well he had theories. He tried everything, each time getting closer than he had before, but never perfect. A hypothesis that changed every time they came home but that never stopped him. Every time he was so sure that this would be the time it would work. He felt a deep wave of sadness crash over him as he realized he would never be able to see if his newest plan would work. He was so sure of this one, but now he’d never get to use it.

Tim had predicted what would happen when he approached Bruce that day, he knew what to expect and what would come next. The strict training regime he had started was nothing surprising. The endless codes and techniques he memorized daily were understandable. There were things he could have never predicted, even in his wildest imagination. Alfred was one of them. The man who had insisted he stay at the manor while his parents were gone. Who asked him about his day and listened as he explained something new he had learned from Barbara.

At least Bruce was understandable. He could find some sense of comforting normality in his clipped words and critiques as he watched over Tim’s training like a hawk. That was something Tim actually knew how to respond to unlike Alfred’s words of encouragement or Dick’s hugs. They were strange and unpredictable. Tim even knew what to expect when he went out that night, but he had never expected this. Never predicted he would die. 

He should have been smarter and faster, should have predicted the man's next move, but he hadn't. Maybe if he had trained harder, been more like Jason he could be out there helping the city but instead, he couldn’t. He had only a second before the knife made contact. A moment to move out of the way or disarm him, but he had done neither. Instead, he stood there, too busy trying to plan out what to do that he could do nothing at all. He lost another valuable moment as his eyes flickered down to his side before looking back up to the man standing in front of him. His small knife now covered in blood, in his blood. His feet tripped over each other as he stumbled backward. The sound of the man's footsteps echoed down the alleyway until he turned the corner and disappeared. He felt his back slam into something hard that sent him falling to the ground. A quick dart to the left saved him from being crushed by the wooden crates he had sent tumbling down around him.

Blinding pain shot through his body as his head collided with the wall behind him. As he sank to the ground his vision began to become overwhelmed with shapes. Shapes that fluctuated the longer he looked at them. Their coloring was reminiscent of an oil spill in a parking lot, bright and vivid colors whose edges melded together perfectly. The already dimly lit hallway grew dark as he became transfixed on the beautiful shapes before he shook them away. Pushing himself up on one hand as he leaned into the wall behind him, he gasped in pain as pain ran up from his abdomen. 

Slowly he began to pull the fabric around the injury away as he took in the sight. Thick red blood began to cover his hands as he held the blood-covered material. His heart began to race as he felt tears beginning to burn at the edges of his eyes. Exhaling slowly as they began to fall. Taking a moment to take in his situation, and then he began to work.

Tim removed the straps attaching his belt and placed it on the ground next to him. He looked through the familiar layout until he found what he had been looking for. Quickly he brought a hand up to his comm before quickly pulling it away. His finger stung as it made contact with the broken and twisted metal that must have gotten damaged when he hit his head. Quickly, he went searching through his belt again before pulling out the emergency beacon. Hesitating slightly before pressing it down and casting it to the side. 

Taking in a deep breath in through his nose before placing the clean cloth over his side. Instantly the pain became almost overwhelming. Just the gentle touch caused the white-hot pain to feel like fire burning his side. Air hissing out through clenched teeth as he slowly pressed down further until he was fully covering it. He could almost hear Bruce's firm instruction echoing in his ears. Instantly he began to slow his breathing, desperate to get his heart rate down from its panicked pace. 

Tearing his focus away from the bleeding as he began to go down the checklist he had been forced to memorize, panicking slightly as he found himself with blanks in the list where his memory was failing him. His frown deepened as he checked more of the boxes which only worsened his concern and had him thinking about how hard he had really hit his head. Finally, he slumped back against the wall, gently lowering his head back until he felt it touch the cold, hard wall. Exhaustion caught up to him as initial adrenaline began to fade away.

He finally recognized the cold misting of rain gently touching down on him. The wind stooped low to tussled Tim’s hair slightly as he shivered. He wrapped his free arm around him as he kept the other pressing down on the cloth. He became hyper-aware of the cold wall and suddenly he wasn’t there anymore. Trapped in his memories as he lay there helpless.

“Timothy, your father and I have decided we can trust you to look after yourself. A boy of your age does not need constant care. From now on Mrs. Mac will be coming twice a week as opposed to every day,” His mother said, her voice cracking slightly as the wind sounded through the speaker on his phone.

“Of course mother,” Tim responded, forcing the disappointment out of his voice. He had known that call for days. Ever since he had turned ten the week before he knew they would be more trusting of him. His parents were highly predictable after all.

“I expect the house to remain in pristine condition and make sure your teacher at school does not contact us again,” Tim winced slightly at the reminder of that phone call. The venom in her voice as she scolded him for his lackluster performance and appearance that had resulted in a worried call from his teacher to his parents and interrupted their work.

Tim didn’t say anything else until he heard the call end. He said nothing when Mrs. Mac left that day, and he said nothing when his teacher asked him if that was his parents picking him up after school. It was his driver, but she didn't need to know that. It was only when he laid at the bottom of the marble steps, head aching and pounding as he stared, dazed at the drops of blood he had left on the stairs when he fell.

“Help me!” He croaked out. His voice shook as he cried out. His voice ricocheting off the walls of the abandoned house. “Please someone help me!”

He begged for someone, for anyone, to come, He yelled for Mrs. Mac to come back even though he knew she was long gone. He yelled for his teacher who at least seemed to care about him. He yelled for his parents to come back. For them to come back and let his plans work and for them to see the work he put in every day to make them proud. He cried out for his hero to help him. The same man who he followed almost every night. To save him like he watched him do to others time and time again. But there was no pounding of steps. No concerned voices that yelled back. There was no one to even hear his yells. 

He yelled and begged until his voice was horse and tears streamed down his face. Holding his pulsing and aching head in his hand. Nausea built up in his stomach as he could feel drowsiness threatening to overtake him. Slowly he crawled his way across the floor, not daring to bring himself to his feet in case dizziness overtook him. Making his way across the entryway hallway until he reached the nearest wall. Resting his back up against the wall before bringing a hand up to his head. Gently touching his hair that was matted with blood before pulling it away. Unsure if the pulsing in his head was from the impact or dehydration from the tears that poured down his face. The cold wall against his back as he rested his head gently against it.

But Bruce wouldn’t leave me, would he? He wouldn’t have taken all that time to train me just to end up leaving me to bleed out in some back alleyway. He had to come, he was a hero that’s what he did. The thoughts that rushed through his head caused him to bring his free hand up to caress it gently. The individual questions and fear slurring together as he squinted his eyes together rightly, the traitorous part of his brain whispering into his heart and he couldn’t help but to entertain the thoughts even momentarily. He didn’t save Jason, he was too slow. At least he came for Jason, who knows if he’s actually looking for me.

If no one had come for him then no one would come for him now, Tim reasoned as the slight drizzle turned into a downpour. He was only the replacement Robin. That he was only there as a placeholder until Bruce found someone else. Someone more agile like Dick and more impulsive like Jason was. Someone who wouldn’t try to predict the person's next move only to end up stabbed. He couldn’t help but sob for everything he would never see again. He would never again feel the excitement of his parents coming home, never be able to make them truly proud of him. Never get the feeling of safety and comfort that Alfred gave him with a simple smile. 

He had known the risks even when he approached and began to sneak out every night to follow his idol around the city with a camera. He had known the risks as he watched Bruce cry by Jasons bed when he thought no one could see him. He had even known the risks when he was finally allowed to join Bruce on patrol only a few months ago. Still, he could have never predicted that he would die this soon.

As his vision darkened he couldn’t help but wonder if the girl had gotten away, her screams were what had led him here after all. He had seen her run when he approached the man, her hand clasped tightly around her purse. But he never actually got to see her get away, to see if she was safe. His fingertips slowly became tingly as his grip on his side loosened. A concerning sign, but he was just too tired to care. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when he was gone. His eyes finally fluttering shut as he relaxed into the pavement. His head rolling to the side as he breathed in slowly. A sense of calm flowing over him as he faintly heard the roar of an engine drawing near. The tires squealed to a half as the door slammed shut. Suddenly there were loud footsteps that shook the earth, pounding into the ground as they drew near.

“Robin! Robin can you hear me?” Tim’s eyes fluttered open, looking up into the masked man kneeling over him.

“Batman?” He asked in shock, his letters slurring together slightly as he looked up in confusion. “You came?”

“Of course I came,” He said in equal confusion. “What happened?”

“There was a man and he had a knife and I hit my head,” Tim said as he squinted his eyes, struggling to remember what happened even though it wasn’t that long ago.

“Understood. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you need to get back to the cave,”

“No,” Tim refused sternly. 

“Robin you need medical attention immediately,”

“The city needs you. You need to be out there,” He protested as Bruce looked down at him. Tim could tell he had so many things he wanted to say but he just stood there wordless.

“Your life comes before the city,” He said finally, slipping his arms underneath him. Tim struggled slightly before giving up. Relaxing into him as he carried towards the car. Repeating his words over and over in his head in confusion. He hadn’t even put any of his plans into play and still Bruce said that. He still hadn't proved his worth. Nevertheless, he felt himself relaxing into Bruce's arms, a small smile spreading over his face. It was an unpredictable outcome, but that didn’t always mean a bad one.


End file.
